


Incomparable

by Spoon888



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Lovers To Exes To Lovers Again, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Truth Serum, pre-war relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24629521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: "I knew it!" A red fist punched into the air, Sideswipe's victorious voice hollering, "I told you he was in love with Megatron. Pay up, Sunny!""Megatron?!" Optimus growled his enemy's designation with unnecessary disgust in his confusion. "I'm talking about Starscream."
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Starscream
Comments: 56
Kudos: 371





	Incomparable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roboapollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roboapollo/gifts), [towards_morning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/towards_morning/gifts).



Sideswipe sat along the trunk of a felled tree and watched his brother snatch up rocks to hurtle at the retreating Decepticons. Most of the flight-frames had already taken to the air, leaving wobbling trails of smoke in their wake, unbalanced by lopsided wings and spinning gyros. Prowl had refused to let them chase the Cons down, citing it wasn't worth the effort and that they were needed to secure a perimeter as the remaining Autobots worked to contain the fire raging in the laboratory's rear building. 

But he hadn't said anything about not sending the last Cons off with a few parting missiles. 

"They're getting out of _range~_ " Sideswipe sung, disappointed that his brother had so far failed to nail a single Con. "Try aiming, Sunny." 

"I am aiming!" Sunstreaker snarled, snatching up one last rock, weighing it in his hand, and then launching it with a shout of exertion across the field. The last straggling Decepticons were at the tree line, and with them, Starscream was stood shouting and gesticulating about something they had forgotten. 

Sideswipe stood, mesmerised by the rock sailing through the air, hurtling towards the screeching Con. And _clunk_ -it nailed Starscream right in the back of the head. 

"Yes!" Sideswipe curled his fingers into a fist, watching the distant red and white figure stumble dizzily in place before tipping over onto his aft, invisible jet planes flying around his head. "That makes up for it."

Sunstreaker turned around with a rare smirk. It fell off his face a moment later when his optics focused past Sideswipe's left shoulder. Sidewipe span in a panicked pirouette to find Optimus stood behind him, having emerged from the burning laboratory. Sideswipe cringed, wondering how long he had been stood there for. 

There was a steak of mud and grass smeared up his right thigh and he stank of smoke, but he was otherwise unharmed from their scuffles. He wasn't even looking at him or Sunstreaker though. His optics were focused on the scene at the tree line. 

Sideswipe realised why, when he turned again to watch Megatron emerge from the trees, parting the thick trunks and branches as easily as silk curtains. The sound of Starscream's screech met their audials even from this distance, as they watched the large grey mech haul the seeker up and fling him over a shoulder. 

Once they had disappeared, Optimus looked down. 

Sideswipe's internals clenched. He looked to Sunstreaker, who had an undisguised expression of befuddlement on his face. Sideswipe wished he could be that oblivious. Probably best he change the subject. 

"We were just securing the perimeter, sir," he lied gracefully, hoping Optimus had been too distracted by Megatron to have noticed the random rocks littering the space between them and the tree line. 

Optimus hummed, and finally expressing an emotion beyond deep, visceral sadness, his optics narrowed into a disappointed frown. "I believe your orders were to allow the Decepticons to retreat without further provocation?" 

"We didn't _stop_ them from escaping," Sideswipe smiled, nervously. 

Optimus's optics wandered over to the tree line again. He stared at it for a while in silence. Sideswipe wondered what he was looking for. It wasn't like Megatron was going to pop out from between them again, not if he didn't have a seeker to rescue. 

Another uncomfortable realisation swirled around Sideswipe's head then, one he felt compelled to share with his brother, just it ensure he had to suffer it too. _Prime's jealous of Screamer_. 

Sunstreaker started and stared at the back of his head. Sideswipe could feel his irritation seeping into the bond. 

Unaware of all this, Optimus finally shook his head and straightened up, snapping himself out of whatever nostalgic daydreams he had been taken by. Sideswipe didn't even wanna know. 

"No more rock throwing," was all he said, before turning around and walking away, presumably to check the other side of the perimeter. The smoke plumes rising out of the laboratory roof were beginning to die down, which meant at least the fire was under control. Maybe they wouldn't have to hang around out here much longer. 

Despite communicating through their bond, Sunstreaker was sure to wait until Optimus was well out of audial range. 

_You're fragging gross,_ he fired across the bond, the mental equivalent of yelling in someone's ear. 

"What? It true!" Sideswipe opened his arm helplessly. "Didn't you see his face?" 

"No," Sunstreaker glared. "Because it's behind a mask." 

"His optics then. His sad, pining optics." 

"Prime doesn't have emotions. The matrix sucks them out of him." 

"He's hung up on Megatron," Sideswipe turned in a slow circle, feeling like he had just unlocked all the answers to the universe. "It makes sense. They're obsessed with one another, they're always wrestling in the mud and calling each other ' _old friend_ '-" Sideswipe said in his best, deep, authoritative, fatherly, Prime-voice. 

"Prime calls Ratchet old friend," Sunstreaker pointed out. 

"Exactly," Sideswipe completed his slow circle and pointed at his brother. "And now we all know what 'old friend' is code for. It means they have a history." 

Sunstreaker started striding past him, kicking at some of the smaller rocks as he walked. "All that means is that everyone still fighting this war is an outdated bucket of bolts." 

"Imagine if this is what this whole war has been about. A bad breakup -"

"It hasn't!" 

"Okay, it hasn't," Sideswipe jogged to catch up to his brother, not letting him get out of hearing his conspiracy theory so easily. "But I bet that's why it's still going." 

"I have a theory," Sunstreaker stopped mid-stride and turned towards his hopeful brother, "and it's that you're watching too many cheap soup operas." 

Sideswipe glared at him, "Well first of all, they're called 'drama's, and secondly-"

"Sides'-"

"You didn't see his face!" Sideswipe bounced insistently on the treads of his feet. "I swear, on my _spark_ -"

"Which is connected to _mine_ ," Sunstreaker muttered resentfully. 

"-that Prime was wearing the face of a love-sick mech," Sideswipe met his brothers gaze intensely. "He's got it bad." 

"For Megatron?" Sunstreaker tilted his head. 

"Yeah, well who else is there?" 

Sunstreaker sighed, and just when Sideswipe was sure he had won his brother over - "You're just trying to make yourself feel better for staring at the seekers' wings." 

He turned around and marched back in the direction of the laboratory, keeping downwind from the last puffs of smoke.

Sideswipe glared. 

"...I just like the way they move around!" He yelled after his brother. 

* * *

  
It had been ...a difficult day for Optimus. Ash from the fire had settled in the bottom of his vents and left him with a lingering cough. It was nothing he wanted to bother Ratchet with though, not when his CMO was already busy at work dealing with Cliffjumper's melted tires and an assortment of marginally less ridiculous damages sustained from their clash with the Decepticons. 

Despite fatigue from the battle, with his thoughts on the cusp of wandering towards his past -always a dangerous place to wander- he didn't dare retreat to his private office or quarters, where there would be nothing to distract from the resurgence of what-ifs and could-have-beens that liked to pop up after interactions with _him_. 

He went to the mess, always a lively, rambunctious area of the ship. It was early evening, and many Autobotd were there refuelling, laughing and gesticulating, reinacting the proudest moments of the day. 

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were telling a _particularly_ uproarious story. 

Even with the many distractions, there was this ... feeling clinging to Optimus's chest, heavier than the ash in his air vents, but abstract, intangible, not something that could be shifted with a simple cough. It was something he could not name. Something that, when he looked inwards, looked too closely, felt empty; a hole with sharp and jagged edges. Something someone had carved out him so long ago he had almost forgotten it was missing. Until a careless jab chased the numbness away and left him with a deep indescribable ...longing, reminding him that his world was colourless and dull, incomparable to what he had once had. Incomparable to the life he could have made. 

Had he not been called away by higher duties. 

"You're miles away," an amused voice yanked him out of the precise sort of melancholy he had specifically come to the mess hall to avoid. Optimus shook his helm in frustration with himself, only now noticing his company. 

"Jazz," Optimus greeted as warmly as he could manage. "Good work today." 

Jazz was sat sideways on the bench next to him, a hand wrapped around a cube on the table. Another one sat before Optimus, untouched. He reached out to take it, assuming it had been left for him. 

"You wanna talk about it?" Jazz's grin was deceptively friendly and genuine, but the sharp upwards quirk to the edge of his mouth betrayed his intrusive intentions. 

Optimus wasn't falling for _that_. He wasn't Prowl, for goodness sake. 

"Our earlier debrief was more than sufficient. There is little else to talk about," he murmured into his cube, retracting the battle-mask before taking a long drink. The fuel warmed him straight down to his tank, and there was an odd, acidic aftertaste he did not recognise. It was not unpleasant. 

"Don't play dumb with me, it's all over base!" Jazz dropped the act and gestured to the mess hall at large. Optimus's optics roamed the room, but there were no clues as to what Jazz was actually getting at. "It's been four million years, man. You need to get over him." 

Optimus's fingers slipped on his cube. His spark thumped in it's casing, startling him out of his shock and into a surprised blink. Get over 'him'? There was only one person Optimus had ever needed to get over. And Optimus had never told anyone about it. 

"How do you know this?" He demanded, instead of any of the far more sensible things he could have done or said to deflect Jazz. Like denying everything and beating a hasty exit. He stared down at his drink, wondering if it was some new style of high-grade and was effecting his decision making...

Jazz shrugged, "I can't give away my sources." 

Optimus remembered Sideswipe and Sunstreaker staring up at him with identical expressions of befuddlement when they'd caught him staring after the retreating Decepticons that afternoon. 

"The _Lamborghinis_ ," he rumbled dangerously, his face-mask snapping back across his face in automated response to his rising temper. It was unfortunate that it did, because he went to take another sip. The cube clacked sharply against the metal. He cursed, feeling flustered. 

Jazz's hand found his shoulder and gave it a fond squeeze, "Don't work yourself up over it. You're not alone, we've _all_ had our own embarrassing little Con-crushes." 

"Soundwave?" Optimus pinned Jazz with a Look. 

Jazz's face gave anyway nothing. "...The mech knows a good tune." 

"This is hardly a crush," Optimus hadn't needed to clarify that, in fact, it would have been much better had he not. But he found the emotions he had been bottling up inside of himself for so long now starting to _pour_ out of him. 

"When we parted ways, I thought I would never see him again," he admitted. "And that over the years the hurt would fade until one day I could wake up and not be reminded of our relationship by inconsequential things like the colour of his armour or the smell of the polish he used. But now we are _trapped_ here on this small planet-"

"... _Relationship_?" Jazz muttered to himself, sounding worried. Optimus barely noticed. 

"-where we cannot go a fortnight without seeing and subsequently having to _shoot_ at one another!" Optimus heard his voice rising as he continued, but he didn't care for the audience he was attracting. "As if the years we spent together meant nothing. As if the promises we made were never true-"

"I-?" Jazz was rarely lost for words. "You've- you're losing me," Jazz admitted weakly, "Maybe we should talk somewhere-" he trailed off, his visor focusing on the energon Optimus had drank. "Who gave you that cube?"

Optimus wasn't going to let the conversation divert away from what mattered though. Too long he had kept this part of his past buried, too long had he lived in denial, too long had he been the first too look away when his optics met with those of his once-lover across the battlefield. Too _long_ had he wallowed in shame. He stood up, the bench sliding across the floor with a load groan, Jazz wobbling off balance. 

"I still love him." 

The mess had become deathly silent. Jazz's mouth had fallen into a little 'o' beneath his cool blue visor. At least twenty other pairs of optics were staring at him from neighbouring tables littering the mess. 

"I _knew_ it!" A red fist punched into the air, Sideswipe's victorious voice hollering, "I _told_ you he was in love with Megatron. Pay up, Sunny!" 

"Megatron?!" Optimus growled his enemy's designation with unnecessary disgust in his confusion. "I'm talking about Starscream." 

The room was, impossibly, even quieter the second time around.

* * *

  
"Ravage; incoming," Soundwave's deep, monotonous, vocaliser announced. 

"Excellent," Megatron rose out of his seat and cracked his knuckles. "Let's hope his mission was a success." 

Still chafing from their humiliating defeat Megatron was keen for something to boost his pride, and Ravage's reconnaissance had the potential of doing just that. In the last few months the Autobots had wised to their enemy's proclivity for sending cassette spies into the walls and vents of their ship, and were starting to take precautions to ensure delicate details couldn't be overheard. Soundwave's reports were getting smaller and smaller by the week as they became increasingly blind to the ongoings of the _Ark_. 

And if they were going to win this war, they needed knowledge. 

Which turned Starscream's latest frivolous invention into a suddenly useful weapon of intelligence gathering. Soundwave had sent Ravage into the _Ark_ with a sample of the experimental compound Starscream had been working on (a chemical designed to illicit strong emotional responses in it's drinker, and compel them towards honesty) with instructions to slip it into Prime's fuel. 

If this was to work not only would the results be bountiful, but potentially mortifying for the Prime as well. Win-win in Megatron's opinion. 

The doors to the command centre opened but it was Starscream, not Ravage, who strode in, fresh from the repair-bay after having that rock-shaped dent knocked out of the back of his helm. Unfortunate. Megatron had been rather hoping the damage would have kept him incapacitated until at least the next day. 

"Did it work?" The seeker demanded. 

"We are about to find out," Megatron smirked, watching Ravage's long dark frame slip between the closing doors. 

Soundwave opened his chest compartment and Ravage leapt through the air into his carrier. The light behind Soundwave's visor distorted for a moment, before he straightened with a nod. "Compound; effective. Proceeding with playback."

Megatron turned towards the main monitor, standing in the centre off the large room with his feet planted wide apart, ensuring he had the best view. Starscream moved around him and sat on top of an offline monitor bank, bringing a foot up to rest on a nearby keyboard. Megatron was in too good a mood to shout at him to get down. 

The screen lit up and Soundwave began replaying the footage. The recording had been taken from a low angle, Ravage crouched at floor-level in one of the vents. A woeful Prime sat at an empty table, the cube Ravage had spiked rested in front of him. He sat unmoving, optics staring far away, for an unnervingly long stretch of time. Megatron motioned to Soundwave to speed up the footage.

They reassumed normal playback when the Autobot saboteur joined his Prime, and Megatron felt a dark curl of satisfaction when he watched Prime lift the cube and take one long drink from it. 

Starscream made a soft noise on his right. Megatron ignored him. 

"- _all over the base! It's been four million years, man, you need to get over him,"_ The saboteur was advising. 

"What are they talking about?" Megatron demanded, tilting his head towards Soundwave but keeping his optics locked on the screen. Prime seemed disturbed. Intelligence gathered under the influence of untested chemicals may not be as reliable as he'd hoped. 

"Unknown," Soundwave admitted as the two Autobots on screen went back and forth over who knew what. Until-

"- _we've **all** had our own embarrassing little Con-crushes."_

Megatron felt like he'd been slapped across the face. The insinuation that Autobots were _lusting_ after his troops?! Not to mention the complete disappointment of their truth compound, which seemed to have turned his mortal enemy into a caricature of a gossiping juvenile-

Then it got worse. 

" _Soundwave_?" Prime said, looking at his saboteur with suspicious optics. 

"... _The mech knows a good tune_ ," the saboteur exclaimed unapologetically. 

Megatron had never felt such acute horror as he did then, when he twisted around to face his stoic communications officer only to find him wringing his hands together and looking everywhere but at his leader.

"Negative ...Soundwave; does not ... _Autobots; inferior!"_ He blurted out a distorted string of words. 

Megatron might have been mesmerised by this phenomena longer, had Prime not began to lose what was left of his sanity on the screen in front of him. Still whirling from the bizarre Soundwave issue, Megatron then found his capacity for surprise completely maxed out when Prime ended his rambling speech with a declaration of love for a mystery Decepticon. 

Then an insufferable voice in the background shouted, "- _ **told** you he was in love with Megatron._" and Megatron very nearly keeled over right then and there, a rattling wheeze escaping his vents as he clutched at his chest like a dying mech, the blackened spark underneath shrivelling in disgust-

" _Megatron_?!" Optimus declared with horror, his image on the screen grimacing through the haze of red filtering Megatron's vision. " _I'm talking about Starscream."_

Megatron braced himself against the nearest monitor screen. That was hardly any better. 

"Starscream!" He bellowed, or tried to. It came out as another breathless wheeze. "Starscream, you-!"

For the first time insults regarding the troublesome seeker failed him. He was too overwhelmed and there were too many to choose from. The seeker was still sat on the monitor bank, staring at the paused playback. At _Prime's face_ on the paused playback. 

"Starscream!" He barked, some strength coming back into his voice. 

The seeker jumped and snapped his gaze towards him, his expression unreadable and utterly void of the cold, smug superiority Megatron had grown accustomed to. Without a word, not a single screeched excuse or rambling lie, the seeker jumped down off the monitor and fled from the command centre. 

Megatron shook his fist after him. "Get _back here_ , Starscream! We need to figure out how to exploit this!" 

There was a slam somewhere further down the ship. Megatron sighed and turned to face the room again, catching Soundwave in the process of his own much more subtle attempt at escape. 

"And where do you think _you're_ going?" Megatron growled, "You have an Autobot saboteur to seduce!" 

* * *

  
After thorough examination by Wheeljack they had found an unidentified substance in the energon Optimus had consumed. It hadn't done any harm to Optimus's fuelling system, but seemed to have some effect on the efficiency of processor function, in a similar manner to how high-grade and excessive charge did. Optimus certainly hadn't _felt_ drunk, but Ratchet had explained only certain areas of his processor had been affected, such as those controlling his inhibitions. And his emotional outputs. 

It wasn't a truth serum, Wheeljack has been adamant about that. But his conviction didn't stop everyone from calling it one anyway. 

It had been four days since and despite Jazz's valiant efforts at 'damage control', most of the base knew, and Optimus still felt the remnants of the uncomfortable slithers of humiliation under his armour. 

That his admission was being treated as a dirty secret, something to be hushed up, only confirmed his long held fears over the matter. He wouldn't resent anyone for it. There were many Autobots who held Starscream personally responsible for ruining their lives, for killing their friends, and Optimus could not tell them their feelings weren't justified, valid. Starscream was a Decepticon. Starscream was not the mech he'd once loved. 

Starscream was a criminal. A murderer. An assassin. A terrorist. 

He was all those things and more, and yet Optimus still thought of him as a ...a maybe. 

It was a feeling powered by the lingering scraps of the fond memories he still held. Of evenings where they'd forgotten about politics and he had been able to drag Starscream away from his experiments.

As he stared off into the distance and remembered Starscream's kiss, the smell of his polish, the mirrored gloss of his wings, the soft, undone noises that could come out of that scratchy, damaged vocaliser, his bitterness and longing merged into something cold and hollow. 

It was only after the truth serum had forced him to say so that he had realised, after all these years, he was still hopelessly in love with that unbearable Decepticon seeker. And perhaps always would be. 

* * *

  
The human characters in the low budget soap operas Optimus had taken to watching with Jazz on quiet evenings had the privilege of wallowing in the mistakes of their pasts and hiding away from the world until some semblance of their once spunky attitudes returned to them after a devastating heartbreak, but Optimus did not. 

A full week after the Decepticons theft and arson at the laboratory, they were back to their usual tricks, hitting a chemical storage warehouse, terrorising the overrun local authorities and stealing entire barrels of hazardous materials. 

Hitting something sounded miles more satisfying than binging on snacks and watching nonsense on TV. 

They rolled out, and arrived to find their enemies still pillaging from the large warehouse, running back and forth between the building and Astrotrain with bright red barrels tucked under their arms. Autobots began to shoot, and there was a sudden flurry of blasters bolts, undercut by a chorus of panicked shouts. 

"-don't shoot! You could hit the barrels-!"

Optimus held fire. He didn't need a repeat of the flaming laboratory. 

He transformed charged towards the warehouse, ignoring the smoking hole blasted into the side of the warehouse that was bound to have dozens of Decepticon guns trained on it, and with a powerful acceleration drove straight into the east side wall, ramming through wood cladding and solid concrete, and straight into a towering shelving unit full of barrels. It fell forward across an aisle and crashed into another unit, beginning a domino effect of chaos, with avalanches of barrels raining down on distracted Decepticons and rolling across warehouse floor to trip up the slow footed. 

With shelving units still crashing all around him, a barrel came flying at Optimus's head from nowhere. He ducked, and after it came Motormaster, diving to tackle him to the chemical flooded floor. Optimus brought up a knee and slammed the top of his thigh into Motormaster's chin. The Decepticon's battle-cry cut off with a pained huff as he bit his own tongue. 

Optimus ran, using the cascading effect of falling shelf units as cover as he moved deeper into the huge warehouse. The building was high enough that he could have stood on his own shoulders and only just been able to reach the roof with an outstretched hand. More shouts and crashes echoed through the warehouse as Autobots flooded in after him, slipping in spills, stumbling over loose barrels and dodging falling shelves themselves.

Optimus skidded around a corner and found Ravage guarding a huge fenced cage in the corner of the warehouse, covered in yellow hazard warning signs. The human sized door was padlocked shut, but the wiring of the cage had been torn open, creating a Cybertronian sized hole. 

Ravage hissed and charged at him, leaping into the air with his claws outstretched and teeth bared. Optimus caught him around the middle, weathering the teeth and claws ripping into his forearm as he drew his arm back and _flung_ Ravage across the warehouse, over the inadvertent blockade of fallen storage shelves and into the main body of the fray. 

There was a loud screech and clang, and someone screaming, "Ravage can _fly_?!" 

Optimus hesitated. His Autobots needed help, but the cage was too much of a concern. He needed to know what had been taken, and why. He onlined his blaster but kept the charge low, wary of the flammable chemicals the signage was warning him of. He stepped out, into the gap made in the wiring, his weapon held out in front of him with two hands. 

Starscream stood into the centre of the cage, his back to Optimus and dark helm tilted back to take in the rows of black containers in front of him. 

Optimus jolted in surprise, his spark slowing to a near stop. As it always did when he saw the seeker.

Well aware that he was no longer alone, Starscream began to turn at the waist, his wings catching the yellow artificial warehouse lights. His optics met Optimus' dispassionately. "...Still love me, huh?" 

Optimus's spark quickened again with a thundering vengeance, pumping tingles of electricity all the way to the ends of his fingers.

Of _course_ the Decepticons had been watching them. And of course Starscream will have heard what he'd said. He steeled his expression, never minding that it was behind a mask. After realising he had lowered his blaster he lifted it again with a glare, pointing it at Starscream's left wing. 

"Return whatever you've taken and leave this place," he ordered. "Or I'll shoot." 

"No you won't," Starscream started to smile. 

Optimus's optics sharpened, "My feelings for you will not stop me from doing what needs to be done." 

Starscream's smirk grew wider, "I was referring to the _flammable chemicals_." Starscream lifted an open palm and gestured loosely to the black containers decorated in dozens of hazard warnings. "But since you brought it up, what _are_ your feelings for me?" 

Optimus's fingers flexed on the grip of his blaster as he realised he had just boxed himself in tighter than a Combiner trying to fit into a cassette player. He couldn't look away from the seeker. He didn't dare to. 

"You know perfectly well," he said, knowing he shouldn't let himself be dragged into this. 

"Maybe I would like to hear them again, from you," Starscream explained quietly, taking one step towards him, his right leg crossing in front of his left, exaggerating the curves of his frame. 

"Don't do this," Optimus said gently, not a plea. Not yet. "Don't turn what we had into a weapon to use again me." 

Starscream's sly smirk faltered, just for the briefest second. 

"Your saboteur was right. It's been four millions." He took another step, but this time his gaze was cold and challenging. " _Four million_ years. And you're still pining for me? Isn't that pathetic." 

Optimus's jaw flexed. He matched Starscream's step forward, and didn't miss the upward flick of the seeker's left wing, betraying a surprise his stoic pokerface could not conceal. 

"Almost as pathetic as you, still trying to get under my panels." Optimus rose to the challenge, actually enjoying the struck look that crossed Starscream's face. "I see no one among the Decepticons can satisfy you quite like I did." 

Colour filled Starscream's dark cheeks, "What a surprise," he snarled, optics alight, specks of furious orange flaring in their centre. "The matrix has ballooned your ego right along with all that self righteousness." 

"If it's 'self righteous' to condemn acts of terrorism-"

"Oh, here we go, another one your lectures on morality. Goodness, I've missed those!" Starscream mocked loudly. 

Optimus response never made it past his lips when a red barrel tumbled by outside the cage, spilling a clear chemical though a hole in it's top. 

Unwilling to have this argument interrupted before he could win it, Optimus stepped further into the cage and to the side, out of sight. A moment later Ironhide and Brawl fell grappling to the floor in the barrel's wake. Optimus listened to the grunts and clangs, glaring at Starscream who had also slipped into the shadows, standing just across from him. 

The wrestling pair scrambled out of sight, but before they could reassume bickering, something slammed against the outside of the cage, jolting the shelving unit that was resting against the wire fence on the side of the impact. It began to tip. Without thinking, Optimus reached out and yanked Starscream towards him, out of it's path. 

The shelve and it's contents slammed into the floor with a deafening crash and mess of split chemicals in the space Starscream had just occupied. It wouldn't have seriously hurt him, even the chemical spill, but Optimus had yanked him out of it's path purely on instinct. 

Part of him still hated to see him hurt. 

Surprised at himself, he looked down at the seeker now stood close enough to brush the front of his chest. Starscream's expression was unreadable, his hands were poised above Optimus's windshield where he had lifted them to defend himself, only to realise he hadn't needed to. 

His chest brushed Optimus's with every inhale, his wings hung at odd, confused angles, and his dark, matte-brushed lips were parted in surprise. Optimus, gingerly, let his hand fall away from Starscream's chest plating, where he had grabbed him to pull him out of harms way. Starscream didn't step back. 

There were crashes and shouts still ringing through the warehouse, so it was far from quiet, but Optimus's audials focused only on the soft sounds of Starscream's vents. In. And out. In and out. In-out. Quickening. His optic's were brightening around the edges, creating the illusion of them getting bigger. 

Optimus stared down at him, his own spark-beat rising, rising. Starscream's wide optics flew to Optimus's mask then back up again. Optimus released it, and leant in. 

He held himself just an inch away, watching the conflict play across Starscream's face. He moved in again, and either suddenly nervous, or making a impressive show of pretending to be shy, Starscream moved away, backing up against the fence. Optimus followed, lifting a hand and threading his fingers through the wires besides Starscream's head. 

Starscream was trapped against the fence, his arms resting against his sides, his own fingers clinging to the wiring. His helm was still tipped back to meet Optimus's gaze. 

Optimus let their noses brush first, stepping closer to Starscream, pressing his chassis against the seeker's so Starscream's back and wings were flush with the fence. He watched, a warm feeling of satisfaction swirling through him, as Starscream's optics fluttered shut, his mouth parting further, his breath dusting Optimus's lips. 

Optimus turned his head, enjoying Starscream's meek noise of protest as he trailed his mouth across his dark cheek until he was speaking directly into his audial, dropping his vocaliser down to it's lowest octave. "And who was it you called pathetic?" 

Starscream shuddered against him violently, his fingers warping the wiring as he pulled on the fence. " _Prime_ -" he growled. 

"That's not what you call me," Optimus reminded him, tone authoritative but warm. He brought a hand to Starscream's waist. 

Starscream's swallowed, his voice hoarse when he whispered, "Optimus."

Behind it's panel, Optimus's spike woke with a twitch. He lifted his mouth away from Starscream's audial and kissed him soundly, just like he used to, just how he remembered the seeker liked. He let his hands roam Starscream's frame, sliding over smooth wings and flicking their tips, stroking hip armour and humming his approval when Starscream's leg lifted, granting access to what lay between. 

Starscream's hands were still tightly clinging to the fence, using it to ground himself with his one last little scrap of control, like if he wasn't touching Optimus he would remain the more resilient of the two of them. Optimus allowed him that delusion, taking Starscream's leg behind the knee and bringing it higher, so it was resting against his hip at a ninety degree angle. 

He leaned his weight on Starscream and began to rock his codpiece against Starscream's panel. There was a bang and series of loud crashes out in the warehouse, and Starscream's panel slipped open. Optimus touched him there, cupping his hand over Starscream's valve array, slipping one long finger into him. 

Optimus ducked his head and sucked on Starscream's neck. Starscream moaned, his valve flexing around Optimus's finger. 

"Shh," Optimus hushed him, listening to the fighting occurring just metres away. 

Starscream bit down on his bottom lip and Optimus released his spike. He let his forehead rest against Starscream's and stroked himself patiently as he waited for the seeker to open his optics and met his gaze. When Starscream did, optics fuzzed around the edges from diverted charge, Optimus brought the tip of his spike to Starscream entrance, nudging it though cushy mesh folds and rubbing it back and forth against the flexing elastic-like rim, beyond which beautiful, wet, bumpy, silicone-layered callipers awaited. 

Starscream gave him a stiff nod of consent, and Optimus watched with growing fondness as he pressed inside clenching, familiar heat. Starscream's mouth dropped open on a low moan, his cheeks glowing pink.

"-more over here!" Someone yelled outside the cage, footsteps thundering by. 

Optimus was careful to slide in slowly, watching Starscream's throat work with silenced whines. He hilted himself and shifted his grip on Starscream's leg, working his hips in a little circle to nudge up against and stimulate all the little nodes and bumps. Starscream's lips clamped together tightly, fast shuddering breaths escaping his secondary vents. 

Optimus pushed himself all the way in, then slowly all the way out, and repeated several times, relishing how Starscream's valve spread around him for each re-penetration, each time slicker than the last. 

When Starscream sounded on the verge of releasing the fence and clawing his optics out, Optimus began to rock into him, a steady staccato place, his hips tapping Starscream's armour lightly. Starscream did release the fence but didn't attack him, instead cupping his face and neck helplessly.

"Optimus," he gasped sharply. 

"Shh," Optimus hushed him again, continuing steadily, even as more footsteps rushed by. 

As Starscream's gasps began to rise into cries Optimus covered his mouth with his hand. Starscream's moans vibrated against the palm of his hand. He shuttered his optics as the intensity of his pleasure cranked up a notch. Lubricant had begun to drip out of Starscream. It was sliding down the insides of the seeker's thighs and splattering the front if Optimus's pelvis. Some dripped to the floor at their pedes. 

Starscream overloaded around him, rattling the fence as he arched. His cry was lost behind Optimus's palm, his breaths quick and ragged. 

Optimus followed soon after, slowing to punching jabs and holding deep to release, jutting Starscream up the fence with his last forceful buck, the seeker's thruster momentarily lifting off the floor as Optimus took his weight. Starscream moaned behind his hand again with a second, gentler overload, shuddering lightly. 

Optimus left his hand over Starscream's mouth as they recovered, him still pinning the seeker to the fence, his spike lodged inside him. Starscream twitched and wriggled, a hand lifting from Optimus's neck and pushing at his face. 

Realising it was impractical to indulge themselves in postcoital embraces at a time like this, Optimus let his hand fall and backed away, his spike slipping from Starscream. 

The seeker turned around to face the fence instantly, glaring over a wing as he 'corrected' himself. Optimus sighed and tucked himself away, poking his head out of the hole ripped into cage in search of witnesses. 

"We're still alone," he told the seeker. 

Starscream huffed. There was a snap and click as he sealed his panel. Dignity recollected, he turned around again, setting his hands on his cocked hips. 

"Are you alright?" Optimus asked, his spark starting to sink as the magnitude, and the potential consequences, of what they'd just done began to build. 

"Fine," Starscream smirked at him -despite his apparent grumpiness, he didn't seem too disturbed by what had just transpired. "I'd be better if I didn't have to worry about dripping through my panel the whole flight home."

Optimus winced. Starscream always painted the loveliest visuals. 

The fight was still raging in the warehouse. Looking out of the cage now Optimus could see barrels and wood panels and body parts flying back and forth through the air. "We should-"

"Go," Starscream nodded, following him towards the hole in the wire fencing, "You'll forgive me if I don't bid you an emotional goodbye, but I know we'll be shooting at each other again in a few minutes so-"

Optimus caught his hand before he could slip out and jump into the fray. Starscream froze, staring at him, something like fear behind his suspicious, calculating gaze. 

"We don't have to," Optimus reminded him. 

"If you ask me to be an Autobot, I'll have to slap you," Starscream told him gently, smiling like an impatient teacher explaining something to the dunce of the class. "And you're not wearing your mask, so it's going to hurt." 

"There's no need to slap me," Optimus said warmly, deliberating not resealing his face mask. Just in case Starscream wanted to do it anyway. He stroked his thumb over Starscream's fingers. "I'm sure you already took what you came for?" 

Starscream's optic twitched; his one tell. "Perhaps." 

"Then there's no need to continue this." 

Starscream rolled his optics, "You severely underestimate now much authority that control freak allows me. I can't call a retreat-"

"I can," Optimus said steadily.

Starscream squinted at him, "Oh really? You're just going to _let_ us pillage this warehouse?" 

"Pillage what?" Optimus gestured to the carnage that lay outside. "Anything more you could take would have to be baled out of the puddles on the floor. I'm letting you leave, free to retreat un-assaulted."

Starscream pursed his lips together, "No rock throwing?" 

Optimus nodded. 

"Alright fine, we'll go," Starscream wriggled his hand free of Optimus's, wiping it against the wall with a mildly disgusted expression. "Till next time then, Prime." He winked.

Optimus smiled, watching him leap elegantly over an overturned shelving unit. 

"I look forward to it," he called after him, smile broadening when Starscream glanced back with a scowl and pink cheeks. 


End file.
